


Out of the Woods

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Kid Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold, wet trip to the woods, brings Hermione face to face with her past and his unhappy little son...</p><p>Betas: <b>MazVN</b> and <b>vcrizzle</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Woods

Looking out over the cold, barren winter landscape, not even a hint of snow could be seen. The heavy clouds that were coming in and threatening to overtake the pitiful sun once more were promising nothing but more of the dreary drizzle of the past few days.

Hermione raised her face to the rays of the sun, trying to catch a little of its warmth before it was swallowed whole again.

Before long the three of them had arrived at the small forest that lay no more than a five minute walk from their home. Today they were gathering materials for homemade Christmas decorations. Hugo raced ahead and found the first thing on the ground. It was a brown leaf, rather massive in size, soggy from the rain and with multiple tears and holes.

“That one looks lovely, dear,” Hermione assured him. “Just put it in the basket.”

Rose, in all her six-year-old maturity, was aghast. “Mum, it's _horrible_! Hugo, no! Not those. Here, follow me!” She too raced ahead and began lecturing her brother.

Hermione let her. As long as Rose didn't bully her brother too badly, Hugo actually seemed to like it. Soon the two of them were frolicking about, investigating their surroundings and occasionally asking their mother's approval of a particular item.

When they reached a clearing with a bench, Hermione decided to take a seat and keep watch with the children running back and forth, always within her sight, and probably within the hearing of the nearest three counties.

“Look, Dad. We found the source of the noise!” an unknown haughty child's voice said.

Hermione turned her head to find a father and young son, both pale and arrogant-looking, wearing coats that were far too pristine for a trip to the forest. It wasn't difficult at all to recognise the wearers. She froze internally and didn't know how to react. She'd known they lived nearby, of course, but the Malfoys were hardly nature-loving sorts.

“Indeed,” Draco answered his son. “This is Mrs Weasley. Those must be... hers.” He glanced at her children.

Scorpius made a face. “There are four Mrs Weasleys, Dad.”

“Five. You forgot the elder.”

“This is the elder?”

Hermione gaped and Draco tried to cover up a laugh with a cough. At a distance, Hugo shrieked in anger because Rose had taken something forcibly from his hands and a heated argument followed.

Scorpius seemed to gain confidence from his father's amusement. “They behave like right savages. And look how filthy they are!”

Draco sobered and said, “Enough, Scorpius. Go play with the savages.”

Scorpius looked genuinely shocked, but after one long look from his father, he reluctantly began moving towards the other children.

Hermione managed a weak smile, which turned into a wince when the arguing became even louder. “Hugo, Rose, enough!” she called. “Rose, you know better than that. No, let him have it! Now! And Hugo, if you hit your sister again, you get no pudding. I mean it!”

“I'm really beginning to appreciate only having one.”

Hermione's smile turned wry. Indeed, they could be a handful, but she wouldn't trade them for the world.

Scorpius was currently standing a few feet away from Rose and Hugo, wrinkling his nose at them, but eagerly keeping an eye on what they were doing. Rose was sorting through pine cones, taking the least damaged ones and carefully placing them in the basket. 

“You live around here?” Draco quietly asked.

Hermione nodded.

“For how long?”

“A couple of years, I suppose.”

“And you never thought to come see me?”

“You never thought to pay your respects when I lost my husband.”

“I was _married_.”

“Condolences can be made by anyone who cares.”

“I wasn't supposed to care.”

“There are different ways of caring.”

“Yes. And your way is to live next to me for years without making your presence known.”

“You were _married_ ,” she mimicked.

“Not for months now.”

She smiled wryly. “So I should come running after all this time? I think not.” Without so much as another glance at him, she gathered her kids and went home.

*

“Muuum, Hugo's taken my doll and I want to play with it!”

“Because he has it, I wager.” Hermione sighed. “Hugo, pick another doll.”

“No, this one!”

“Rose, be the bigger person and let him play with it a little bit. We can do something fun instead.”

“No, it's _mine_!”

“Really. Between the two of you you probably have enough toys to open a shop, and you always have to fight over one or the other? Hugo, give it back. The two of us will make ginger biscuits instead.”

Rose dropped the doll that Hugo had released at the mention of biscuits. “I want to make biscuits too!”

“No, you wanted the doll, so play with it.”

“I didn't know we could make biscuits!”

“Didn't I just _say_ we could—” A loud knocking on the door interrupted her. “Oh, thank the stars,” she muttered under her breath as she went to answer it.

The stars had seen it fit to mock her, though. “Malfoy,” she said, still annoyed. “To what do I owe the...?”

He shot her a sardonic smile that showed her that he was very aware of his welcome. “It's rather an emergency,” he said. “I was called out and when I didn't know what to do with him, I recalled that you're... _nice_.”

Disregarding how he made being nice sound like a bad thing, Hermione realised that Scorpius was standing next to his dad, looking wary.

“I would have thought you had people for that sort of thing,” she said.

“I could simply leave him on his own. He should be all right by himself for a few hours, right?”

Hermione shot Draco a baleful glance and put her arm around Scorpius. “Make yourself at home, love, while I talk to your father.” She waited until the boy had gone in and out of earshot, before she said, “You really have some nerve coming here, Draco.”

“Yes. But I knew I could count on you.”

“Just... do what you have to do and then come pick him up.” She closed the door without a care what else he might have to say.

*

“I don't like him,” Rose said to her mum in a loud whisper.

Fortunately, Scorpius couldn't hear it as Hugo was giving him an even louder tour of each and every toy in their rooms.

“It doesn't matter if you like him,” Hermione replied. “Just play with him. He probably doesn't have a lot of friends.”

Rose drew back with a miffed expression. “I said I didn't like him, not that I wouldn't play with him.” Then she flounced after her brother. Shortly after, they all came back in the room, Hugo and Rose loudly chattering to drown each other out, and Scorpius looking wary.

“Hugo, Rose, go wash,” she commanded. “I won't have any dirty hands or faces when we bake.” That was enough to shut them up and send them running. She then bent down to Scorpius. “Would you like to make ginger biscuits with us?”

He put on his snooty face and puffed himself up. “At home we have a chef in the kitchen. We don't make our own biscuits.”

“Baking is fun.”

His eyes flickered. “I also have more toys than you. Bigger ones too.”

“Mhmm.”

“And I'm not loud like them. I could have gone with Dad. They wouldn't have noticed me.”

“No doubt. But it sounds dreadfully boring to always be so quiet and grown-up. He probably thought you'd have more fun here.”

“Why?” The boy looked genuinely puzzled.

“There are other children to play with.”

“I'm used to playing alone. Well, there was one nanny that used to be very nice to me and play with me a lot. Dad liked to talk to her too, and he never talks to the help. Mum didn't care for her, though.”

“I bet she didn't.”

“Mum dismissed her. Said she was trying to steal something. Stealing is bad. You wouldn't steal, would you?”

“No,” Hermione quietly replied. “I wouldn't steal.” She decided to lighten the mood and smiled at him. “But I can show you why baking is fun.”

*

A few hours later the kitchen looked like a tornado had gone through it. Flour, dough, dirty shape cutters and the like were all over the kitchen, mingled with splodges and swipes of colourful frosting.

Three happy children were putting the finishing touches on their ginger biscuits shaped as people, reindeers, stars, hearts, and whatever else they'd had cutters for. Hugo with a very firm love of green, Rose with more gusto than artistic acumen, and Scorpius with an almost anxious need for perfection.

“Can we taste now, Mum?” Hugo asked.

“You know the rules,” Hermione replied. “We don't eat while there's a mess.”

“But I'm tired,” he whinged. “From all the baking. See, I can barely lift my arms!” He did a poor impression of his arms weighing him down.

“Yes, I can see that,” Hermione said, nodding. “Perhaps we should skip the biscuits and go straight to bed?”

“No!” Both Rose and Hugo immediately objected. Scorpius didn't chime in, but simply looked resigned.

No six-year-old should be that calm in the face of losing out on biscuits.

“Then we clean. Now!” Hermione clapped her hands and watched as her own kids muttered and whinged while slowly performing their tasks, and Scorpius obeyed. “That's very good, Scorpius,” she said.

She didn't get the response she expected. He just shrugged. “If a grown-up tells you to do something, you do it. If you don't, you get punished.”

“Here we only punish someone if they are bad,” Hermione said.

“Pinching me was bad,” Rose pointed out.

“Stomping on your guest's foot because you wanted his cutter was even worse,” Hermione reminded her. 

“He's not _my_ guest.”

“He is a guest in this house, and that makes him your guest too. Take Hugo and get washed up now.”

Scorpius merely watched the exchange and then quietly followed Rose.

*

By the time Draco finally arrived it was already well past the children's usual bedtime and Hermione had been just about to call it a night for them. When she opened the door, the wind caught, and it slammed against the wall, starting the children. Draco hurried in and Hermione shut the door as quickly as humanly possible, slamming it again, only to realise that all the noise had made Hugo whimper.

“Rose?” she called.

“Yes, Mummy.” Through the open door to the living room they could see Rose dutifully put down her early reader and go hug her little brother.

“I see that sometimes having two is handy,” Draco commented.

“Not as handy as a house full of paid staff, I'm sure.” She led the way from the small entryway into her living room where Scorpius had got to his feet. “Scorpius, didn't you have something to show your father?”

Scorpius shuffled his feet around a bit but then finally nodded and went to get the biscuit he'd especially put aside. It was a ginger biscuit Christmas tree where yellow frosting painted the star, green frosting outlined the branches, and little red and blue blobs were ornaments. Hermione had given him a lot of praise for this particular biscuit and he hadn't wanted anyone else to touch it.

Draco received the biscuit in some confusion and then stared at it blankly for a few seconds before he said, “The star is crooked.”

“I told you so!” Scorpius glared at Hermione.

Hermione pasted a smile on her face. “I'm sure he needs a minute to collect his thoughts after being out in that nasty weather. You go on reading with Rose, your father and I will talk in the kitchen for a minute.” She grabbed Draco hard enough to hopefully hurt him and hauled him into the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” he said when he got a good look at her face. His alarm only seemed to increase when she closed the door after them. Good. She was furious.

“What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?” she hissed at him. “Your son presented you with something he had been anxious for you to see, and all you can tell him is that it's _crooked_? Do you _want_ to hurt him?”

“Really, I don't think one little comment will—”

“One little comment? It's not one little comment, it's everything! I've only just met him and I can tell something is very wrong. My god, is it so hard to show the child a little affection?”

“If I don't teach him how things are to be done, how will he learn?”

“I am quite sure he can happily go through life without ever learning how to decorate biscuits to your standards. And you don't teach kids things by tearing down their confidence every chance you get!”

Draco raised his hands. “Can't we have peace?”

“No, we cannot. You bring this poor, little, lonely creature here and expect me to quietly sit by while you continue to—“

“No, actually I rather hoped you'd know how to fix him.”

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again. “What?”

“I clearly don't know what I'm doing. I know you didn't want us here, but seeing how _happy_ your children looked the other day, I hoped you might be able to tell me why my son is so miserable. Oh, and I needed a sitter while I stopped some ambitious gits from usurping most of my company.” 

He smiled, and for a second Hermione seriously considered taking a frying pan to his head.

*

“All right, Scorpius, time to leave. Let me just wrap this...” Draco carefully wrapped the biscuit. He'd been instructed to make nice with his son whilst Hermione put her own children to bed. He knew better than to disobey.

“Doesn't matter,” Scorpius said. “It's ugly.”

Draco shot Scorpius his haughtiest look. “Excuse me. Malfoys do not make ugly things.”

“You said the star was crooked,” Rose helpfully supplied from the doorway before her mum sharply demanded she get back to brushing her teeth.

“Yes, I did. And that happens to be part of its charm. Uniformity does tend to get dull.”

By now Scorpius was blushing and shuffling his feet again. “You're just supposed to eat it,” he muttered.

“Not until I show Chef.”

Scorpius gaped. “You can't!”

“Of course I can. And he will love it if he appreciates his salary. Put on your coat now, I think it best we stop bothering Mrs Weasley.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, rather I think I did.”

“When?”

“Always.”

“Did you apologise?”

“Did I what?”

“Mrs Weasley said she'd forgive anything if the apology was sincere. She also said that most of the time Hugo and Rose _sincerely_ didn't want to be punished.”

Draco grinned. “Sounds like you had fun.”

Scorpius shrugged. “I want to play here again.”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes. Rose and Hugo are awfully noisy, but they are a lot of fun. And Mrs Weasley is very nice, she didn't even punish me when I was bad.”

“You've been bad?”

Scorpius made a face. “Dad!”

“All right, first let's go—“ A loud groan followed by a thump that rattled the windows sounded from just outside. “Um. I think we will have to Apparate tonight.”

Scorpius paled. “I don't want to!”

Hermione appeared in the door to the living room. “Don't want to what?”

“You'll have to, just this once.”

“No!”

“Scorpius!” Draco stared at him. “Since when is 'no' an option with me?”

“What's happening?” Hermione asked.

“He says we have to Apparate.” Scorpius looked close to tears. “I get very sick.”

“Of course you do, love. Go back inside.”

Scorpius didn't hesitate to do as Hermione instructed and Draco scowled. “Would you rather I walk him back through all that?” He gestured towards the nearest window and the wind howled in answer.

“No, it doesn't appear to be safe.”

“We can just—“

“Little children shouldn't be forced to Apparate. There's an extra bed in Rose's room, and one of her cousins left a pajamas that may be a little large for Scorpius but serves its purpose. I also keep a few extra packs of toothbrushes around.”

“You... why?”

“There's an endless parade of kids coming in and out of this house. It's one of the privileges of being related to the Weasleys. I will see that your son is put to bed.” Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared after Scorpius, leaving a rather flummoxed Draco behind.

*

“So... I will pick him up in the morning?” Draco was frowning in part confusion and part annoyance at Hermione when she came back down.

“Take off your coat.”

“You seem to have grown very fond of telling me what to do.”

“Your son is only six and barely knows us. He could wake up homesick, crying for you.”

“I don't think he has the personality for that.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “He's six. He _should_ have the personality for that. Tomorrow we're making Christmas decorations. Perhaps you could make something with Scorpius to put up in your home. He seems to especially find the cones we collected the other day fascinating.”

“Are you seriously asking me to spend the night?”

“We're adults. We can sleep in the same house.”

“We're adults with a past.”

“Not a sexual one.”

“You're right. How silly of me. How could I possibly think that it could be difficult then?” He demonstratively shrugged off his coat and threw himself into her favourite armchair in a parody of relaxation.

“You're the one who showed up here and asked me to look after your son. I hardly think it gets more difficult than that.”

“You found my request difficult?” He seemed genuinely surprised by that.

“I found that it was highly unfair of you to bring him here and corner me into looking after him.”

“I didn't realise it would be that much of a bother. I'm... sorry.” He frowned.

“Not used to those words, are you?”

“No. But Scorpius said they would make you forgive me.”

“He's a good kid.”

“See! You like him!”

“Yes. But he looks too much like you.” He didn't seem to have a response for that and she forged on, “You can have the bedroom, the sheets are fresh.”

“You don't really expect me to take over your bedroom, do you?”

“Don't play the gentleman, Draco. I know better than that.”

“Your sofa looks comfortable enough.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“All the more reason you shouldn't sleep down here. How will you control those two troublemakers if you're sleep deprived?”

“How will you control yours?” she deadpanned.

“You're joking, right?”

“Sadly, yes. That boy's far too timid.”

“Timid... haven't really heard that word to describe him before.”

“Yes, well, you tell me what other word to use for a child that is constantly suppressing his natural responses because he's scared to death of being punished or, worse, disappointing you.”

He winced. “All the more reason to give me a bad night's sleep.”

“You look like you've had plenty of those though.”

A slight flush spread in his cheeks and he stared at her. “How did you know?”

“I used to know you very well, and you haven't changed that much.”

He seemed reluctant to admit it but then finally sighed and nodded. “After Asteria left, the vultures are closing in, counting on me being too distracted to guard my fortune, and on top of that I seem to be unable to make my only son happy, no matter what I do. What if he ends up doing stupid, dangerous things in order to prove something?”

Hermione went over and put her hands on his shoulder. “Take the bedroom, Draco.”

“I can't do that, Hermione. You've already treated us better than we deserve.”

“Fine. Then you leave me no choice. We'll share.”

“We'll _what_?”

“No need to look so scared. I have a perfectly decent granny nightgown, complete with hideous flowers and bows, that I will wear tonight. And my bed is wide enough for one adult, three children, a cat, and the occasional dog or two. I can't see why the two of us wouldn't fit with plenty of space to spare.”

“That's a big bed for a single woman.”

“For a single _mother_ it's rather a necessity at times.”

He eyed her warily, but just as she was considering threatening to bunk down on the floor until he agreed to the only thing that made sense, he complied.

*

Hermione's world was a feeling of light. Someone had spun a cocoon of blissful warmth around her, and she was floating, soaking it all up. Occasionally a small breeze would touch her cheek or her neck, and she would get gooseflesh, but it only made her relish the feeling more.

“Mum? Muuum... MUM!”

Hermione came awake with a start and stared with confusion at her daughter, who'd seen it fit to shout straight into her face. “What?” she croaked.

“Is he our new Dad?”

After another confused moment, Hermione realised that she'd somehow snuggled up against Draco and he was the source of the warmth she'd felt. She hurried to untangle herself, realising with some annoyance that he was still asleep. Just as well, since her nightgown had somehow climbed up around her waist, and she couldn't claim that their current pose was either decent or proper in this situation.

Before she replied, she cleared her throat. “No, of course not.”

“Told you so, Scorpius!” Rose was a picture of triumph.

Scorpius was scowling, clearly unconvinced and not enjoying the idea of a step-family.

Hermione tried to subtly pull the nightgown down and then failing as Hugo launched himself at her, jumping up and down until she caught him under her duvet and snuggled with him. It seemed like all the activity was at last bringing Draco around, but Hermione didn't dare to even look at him.

“I know what grownups do when they have sleepovers!” Rose proclaimed.

“No!” Hermione cleared her throat. “I mean... no. We just slept. Like very tired friends who shared a very big bed.”

“How would a little girl know those things anyway?” Draco muttered, hardly awake, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“She has cousins,” Hermione replied with a sigh. “ _Older_ cousins.”

“I see.” He looked down at the giggling Hugo, cuddling up against Hermione. “This how your day usually starts?”

“No. Usually there are shouts for breakfast too.”

At the reminder, both her children loudly reminded her that, indeed, they were both starving and would die if not fed on the spot. 

*

Breakfast went by without any major incident and then Hermione took out all the decoration materials she'd bought and gathered with her children this past month: cleaned and dried pine cones, leaves, berries, silk flowers and ribbons, as well as steel wire, glue, scissors, lacquer, and various other tools of the trade.

“That looks... complicated,” Draco commented. “And also a little bit dangerous.”

“That's okay. I'll help you with the scissors so you won't cut yourself,” Hugo said, and Hermione had to swallow a laugh.

The look she got from Draco suggested that she hadn't done a very good job of hiding her amusement. It also suggested something else, something that made her quickly turn her back to him and busy herself. The distant look in his face when she finally glanced back at him oddly made her feel regret.

With the help of some inspiration from a book, a bit of imagination, and—when all else failed—some magic to tie up their loose ends or make a particular decoration more interesting, they had a lot of fun.

Scorpius was completely focused on following a specific template and barely seemed to register anyone else. Draco insisted that he be the one to handle the sharp ends of the steel wire, but otherwise let Scorpius do it by himself. Towards the end of the day, Scorpius had managed to make two lovely decorated pinecone heart wreaths.

“Those are very pretty,” Hermione told the satisfied boy. “You should hang them up at your home.”

Scorpius nodded. “One is for Dad.”

Hermione smiled. “And the other?”

“The other is for... for my Mum...” He stared down at the table.

Draco sighed. “I told you already, Scorpius. I don't know where she is.”

“Really?” Hermione couldn't help but ask.

Draco shot her a self-deprecating smile. “She doesn't want to be found. I'm sure they'd have put me up for murder if she hadn't made an appearance at her solicitor's.”

“I don't care,” Scorpius insisted. “It's for Mum.”

“Don't worry,” Hermione said, picking up the wreath. “I have better connections than your father. I'll have this delivered to your Mum's door in time for the holidays.”

“Really, Hermione, you don't have to—“ Draco began, but Hermione interrupted him. 

“Oh, believe me, I have to.”

*

The storm had long since died down and after the Malfoys went home, Hermione didn't see either of them for a while. Before they'd left, she'd gone as far as to suggest that Draco could have Scorpius's nanny bring him over for playdates sometimes, but he hadn't done so.

She had carefully packed the wreath and sent it off. One of the perks of working as a wizarding ambassador for most of her adult life was that her network had virtually no holes in it, and she had every confidence that the gift would find the missing mother within a matter of days.

Leaving an unhappy home was one thing—leaving an unhappy child with no way to contact you was quite another. Asteria could run, but she would never be able to hide from Scorpius as long as Hermione had a say in the matter.

*

It was ten days later when she finally saw Draco again. It still hadn't snowed, but there had been frost that morning, making her children unaccountably excited. Fortunately, that was no longer Hermione's problem as it was her long coveted turn for a few days of holiday peace while her children were visiting with family.

She took the opportunity to take a nice, quiet stroll in the woods, and quite surprisingly came across Draco sitting on the bench. When she approached, he started and looked almost embarrassed.

“Hello, Draco.”

He blurted out, “Asteria showed up. But I bet you'd predicted that.”

Hermione joined him on the bench, already weighed down by this conversation. “Not as much predicted as hoped.” For Scorpius's sake, she _had_ hoped. Still, it wasn't easy.

“Scorpius is so... happy. Turns out all he needed was his mum.”

“And this surprises you?”

“No.” He sighed and looked away. “You gave him what I couldn't.”

“Nonsense, all I did was facilitate a message.”

“Yes... well... that message did all the difference.” He paused and then reluctantly said, “I know I'm a rubbish father, which is why I never understood why Asteria left him with me. He deserves better. Yet with the way she disappeared...”

Hermione looked away to disguise the selfishness of her response. “You don't have to take her back.”

“Take her back? You must be joking. I finally got out, I'm never going back in there. Not even for Scorpius's sake.”

Hermione's head snapped back. “Really?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You really thought we'd be willing to repeat our mistakes that easily? Not bloody likely. I'm not as kind as you.”

“I'm not that kind.”

“I turned my back on you eight years ago. I didn't even tell you to your face about my upcoming marriage. I made all the wrong choices. And still you look out for my son.”

“He had nothing to do with... with us.”

“Is there still an 'us'? I know I shouldn't even entertain thoughts of you, but when a lovely witch invites you into her home, and into her bed where she embraces you all night...”

“I thought you were asleep!” Hermione's cheeks instantly coloured. “I-I mean... I hadn't even realised... I didn't intentionally, I swear...”

“I woke up in the middle of the night to feel your nicely rounded bottom pressed against my—“

Her cheeks became an even deeper red. “I think that's enough with the imagery!” 

“—Thighs. But all I did was enjoy the feeling and go back to sleep. I'm quite the saint, really.”

“Obviously.”

“I can't say I deserve another chance, but it hurts a man to be ignored and politely barred from the witch's home the next day.”

“When did I—“

“Your invitation. Only for the son. Not the father.”

“That never stopped you before.”

“There comes a time when a man has got to stop being a nuisance to the woman he... likes.”

Hermione couldn't quite stop the smile from forming. “You like me?”

“What do you think I'm on about? What's worse is that my son likes you too. That makes you practically irresistible. I wish I had your talent with him.”

“I don't know, Hugo was quite proud of how you let him help you with the scissors.”

“Well, obviously I needed someone skilled to assist me.”

There was a pause and then Hermione finally caved and admitted, “I was very disappointed not to hear from you for so long.”

As the words sank in, he slowly smiled. “You were?”

“You know what I think?” She slid her hand into his and began entertwining their fingers.

“No, what?” He seemed more interested in what she was doing than what she was saying.

“I think that there are no right or wrong choices. We just make our way through this maze that they call life the best we can, and sometimes we go in circles or hit a dead end, but we still have to move forward.”

“And sometimes you have to come full circle in order to see the way?”

“Correct,” she replied and drew him closer for an embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally managed to finish something in a long, long while. And it was my very first kid!fic too. ;) Happy holidays!


End file.
